A Life Without Consequences

omg im batman

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 17:11:18 GMT

Nothing's more fun than a stupid online quiz when one's supposed to be studying for Philosophy...

You scored as Batman, the Dark Knight. As the Dark Knight of Gotham, Batman is a vigilante who deals out his own brand of justice to the criminals and corrupt of the city. He follows his own code and is often misunderstood. He has few friends or allies, but finds comfort in his cause.

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Batman, the Dark Knight

79%

Captain Jack Sparrow

71%

Neo, the "One"

71%

The Amazing Spider-Man

58%

Maximus

54%

James Bond, Agent 007

54%

El Zorro

46%

The Terminator

38%

Lara Croft

38%

William Wallace

38%

Indiana Jones

29%

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

You know, I've been worried about this myself lately....

Wed, 09 Nov 2005 23:47:47 GMT

From IMDB:

Alba Fears Whore Typecast
Movie beauty Jessica Alba fears she is being typecast, because she only gets offered role as whores and sexy maids. The Sin City actress is grateful for the opportunities she has been given in Hollywood - but would kill for the parts offered to rival actress Natalie Portman. She tells gossip site PageSix.com, "The scripts I get are always for the whore, or the motorcycle chick in leather, or the horny maid. I get all those screenplays that start, 'Tawnya is in the shower. The water streams down her naked, perky breasts.' Somehow, I don't think this is happening to Natalie Portman."

Miles to go before I... go under the knife.

Mon, 07 Nov 2005 18:24:44 GMT

Whoa, what's up? November's here, and things are looking up at the moment. I spent the weekend playing in the park and cleaning my dreadful apartment. And sitting through a mercifully short prose edit for Esprit. Surgery's in less than two weeks, and I've got a ton of stuff to do -- various and sundry appointments, papers, poems, etc. -- between now and then.

Thus: no time to say hello, goodbye!!!!!!!11

Edited later to add: What the fuck is going on with the weather? One minute it's 65 and sunny, the next it's a bitter mid-30s. But, more importantly, is it okay to wear sweaters yet? I can't even tell. I like wearing them because they're warm and comfortable (and if I wear enough underneath, they somewhat improve the look of my scrawny little chest!!!!1), but I'm terrified of what happened today: I wore a sweater, and it's almost seventy degrees out. In November. Mind you, I'm not terribly thrilled about winter (save for the initial, like, novelty value of its onset during the holiday season), but I'd rather get it over with than deal with such tough questions and/or a repeat of today's fashion faux pas. Anyway: what's the rule on this -- assuming you're me and currently have no internet access with which to check the day's weather? Help.

Halloween.

Mon, 31 Oct 2005 21:22:19 GMT

Where does the weekend go, exactly? My Ethics class ends every Friday at 2:50, and the next thing I know it's Sunday night -- two days and numerous college football games, hours of (excessive/catch-up) sleep, and party-going later -- and I've got tons of stuff to do. Boy, having the discipline of a small child really hinders one's productivity; that said, it keeps me invested in comic books, cartoons, and cereal. Eventually I hope to merge these two when I become a Grown-up. But since I don't see that happening overnight, I have a lot to do this week and beyond. And I don't just mean school-wise. (Cryptic, eh?) Meanwhile, the 'rents have been asking for my Christmas list, and that takes precedence over everything....

I can't fucking believe it's Halloween, though. And anybody who knows me well should understand why. One year, kids, and I'm somehow still alive. Who knows where I'll be in a year from now?

The Shape of Things

Wed, 26 Oct 2005 22:30:07 GMT

"... I don't know if I've been through anything worse, but in order to do this, I have to believe that I have." James Frey, A Million Little Pieces

As is always the case when I'm staring at this screen, I haven't written in a while. So I've decided to use this entry as a means of expressing my recent goings-on for completely selfish reasons: namely, to sort all of this shit out spatially so that I can deal with it and move the fuck on with my life. So, let's see.

School sucks. I wish it didn't, but it does. My classes aren't especially thrilling, and my other problems (finances, work, health, and general malaise) keep me in a state scattered enough that I often struggle to give any semblance of a shit about, like, what Tommy Aquinas thinks about Eternal Law -- mostly, in that particular instance, because I don't know whether or not I believe in God these days and as such justifying everything with "omg bc its gawdz will tehe yay!!!!!!!11" doesn't really whet my metaphysical appetite. But I'm digressing like a fiend here; point is: I've hit that place in the semester where I just want it to be over, and I need to put my head down, suck it up, and do everything necessary to come out of these exhausting academic endeavors with my chin up and my grades at a somewhat respectable level (no thanks to my American Lit. professor, a monotone but reasonably intelligent man who subjects me on a regular basis to things I read in high school and/or Puritan drivel).

Um. What else? Oh, right: I have a hernia and need surgery. In very complex medical jargon, my intestines are bulging out of my stomach -- down by my groin. So I need somebody to cut into me, tuck them back in, and sew me up. Goodie. When first diagnosing my affliction (in the most stereotypically awkward moment of my life, one where I literally needed to turn my head and cough, if you know what I mean) my doctor asked, "Gee, did you lift anything strenuous?" I replied, "Do I look like I've lifted anything strenuous in my entire life?!" Heh.

In other news: my boss threatened to fire me today from my illustrious, high-paying workstudy job at the University Writing Center. Why? Because the office wasn't "tidy enough" yesterday morning, and also I forgot to lock the door of an obscure room that we almost never use, much less leave open in the first place. Now, I'm not the greatest employee in the world. I slack sometimes, like most people, but I usually comply with the asinine amount of bureaucratic Nonsense I'm required to do. If I lose this mockery of a job, I'd like to be fired because of my failure as a writing consultant rather than a bunch of superfluous horseshit.

But there's a Silver Lining here. I'm reading a great book at the moment (see above), enjoying college football a lot (save the last fucking second of that rotten ripoff in South Bend a few weeks back), and getting to the point where even I'm sick of hearing myself whine about Everything. "The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of other things...."